


Basic Instinct

by Rroselavy



Category: Wild Adapter
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-06-02
Updated: 2010-06-02
Packaged: 2017-10-09 21:16:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,851
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/91707
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rroselavy/pseuds/Rroselavy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A narrow escape uncovers hidden emotions.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Basic Instinct

**Basic Instinct**

It was dangerous to become attached to things. When you became attached to things, you made mistakes. You stopped thinking with your head, and your heart, damned foolish muscle, got in the way. When you were attached to things, you were vulnerable to attack, and that fact _would_ be exploited by your enemies.

But Tokitoh wasn't a _thing_. He was living, breathing sinew and muscle. He was brash and refused to be taken for granted and, as much as he could not remember his past, he refused to be forgotten. He was petulant, he was possessive, he was devoted; he was a splinter under Kubota's skin. He was an inconvenience and a liability.

Above all, though, Tokitoh was his, and nothing, _no one_ fucked with Kubota's things.

Rage burned in a pale, blue flame beneath his placid façade as he cut a swath of destruction to find Tokitoh, piling dead bodies of sycophants and henchmen in his wake. It burned behind his dead eyes, boiled underneath an economy of movement. It bored a black hole into his chest and expanded, demanding to be filled with the blood of anyone who dared to stand between him and Tokitoh. And when the killing was over, when the last gunshot stopped ringing in his ears and the acrid smell of gunpowder dispersed in the sea breeze, it abated somewhat. He stood amid the hornet's nest, unscathed, but painted with blood and viscera, and coolly removed his hand from Tokitoh's, extracting the gun with it. They were both killers now, but Kubota had no time to ponder that as bullets rained down from above. He and Tokitoh headed for the ship's rail as one.

And then they were free-falling several stories from the tanker deck toward the abyss below, and Kubota thought that if his life ended with that dive, he would be able to say he had no regrets.

Of course, it couldn't be that simple.

The water was ink-black and ice-cold, and it woke Kubota's senses where adrenalin had numbed them to his grim task. He cracked a smile when Tokitoh's head broke the surface and he immediately began to complain. It was a good sign, though he would need to channel some of his anger into to staying afloat as they churned toward the distant shoreline.

Kubota couldn't tell how long it took them to reach the water's edge, but when he managed to drag himself onto an old dock with Tokitoh in tow, he could no longer feel his hands or feet. Remarkably, his glasses had survived intact; he slipped them clumsily over his nose and the starry sky overhead came into sharp relief. They both lay there, clinging to each other for warmth, shivering, the distant sounds of calliopes, barkers and fairgoers drifting over them, mixing with the sound of the water lapping against the pilings; life moving around and about them, indifferent to their plight. Eventually he felt the telltale pins and needles of the circulation returning to his extremities.

Tokitoh seemed perfectly content to lie there, his beast's hand hidden underneath him, his other arm thrown protectively over Kubota's chest, his warm breath ghosting over Kubota's throat. After awhile, though, he grew fidgety, shifting positions and stretching his limbs.

"Let's go home, Kubo-chan," he mumbled, slowly lifting himself on one elbow.

Home was not an option, though, at least not yet, not when Sanada had raised the stakes in this game astronomically. There was a debt to be paid now, probably with his blood, even though Kubota'd been an unwilling participant in the wager to begin with. He'd been goaded into playing; that didn't matter now. But 'home' to Tokitoh was by his side, so he would follow Kubota faithfully, even if a little apprehensively.

"Okay," he replied agreeably.

He made no attempt to move, though. As much as he wanted to have Kou-san examine Tokitoh, Kubota didn't want to put his some-time employer and accomplice at risk unnecessarily; he would have enough to deal with in the fallout from Kubota's latest actions. They only had one safe place to turn, one person who'd offer them dry clothes, a meal and a temporary place to stay: Kasai. He stood up and offered a hand to Tokitoh, then pulled him up, Tokitoh instinctively cradling the deformed limb against his body. It was strange to see the gnarled fingers unsheathed; Kubota was empathetically uncomfortable with the exposure.

The swim had removed the blood and grime from their clothes and bodies. Tokitoh's skin was opalescent in the pale moonlight. Kubota imagined if he looked closely, he would see the blood coursing through blue veins, just underneath the surface. For a brief second, he imagined the heat of Tokitoh's blood spilling over his skin and shivered.

"Let's go." He struck off, leaving wet footprints on the coarse boards, Tokitoh shadowing him.

They wended their way through vacant warehouses and dimly lit alleyways until they found the thoroughfare that ribboned the waterfront. They were closer to the carnival now, and on any other night, Kubota would have taken Tokitoh there, if only to watch the wonderment on his face as he dragged him from arcade game to arcade game, wheedling yen from him to try for prizes. He wouldn't have the heart to tell Tokitoh that the games were fixed, at least not until his face was red from pointless exertion and he was sputtering angry curses.

He turned left onto the roadway, coming up short when Tokitoh grabbed his arm.

"The apartment's-"

Kubota brought his index finger to Tokitoh's lips, silencing him.

"We have to stop somewhere else first."

Tokitoh knew enough not to question Kubota; he shrugged his shoulders petulantly and issued a _harrumph_.

They walked to Kasai's in silence.

Kubota's knocking roused his uncle, who seemed unsurprised by their materialization on his doorstep in the dead of the night. He let them in without a word and they shed their wet shoes and socks by the front door. He set the kettle on to boil then ushered them through his modest bachelor's rooms to a bathroom at the end of the hall. It was strange to be back at Kasai's, the memories of his early adolescence hidden in every corner, waiting to ambush him.

Tokitoh was shivering, so was he, but Kubota needed to make sure he was all right before he'd even think about his own needs.

"Get undressed."

Tokitoh shrugged out of his water-logged coat, then reached for the hem of his shirt. As he pulled it over his sinewy body, Kubota's blood ran cold. A lattice of bruises and cuts marred his skin, a silent testament to what he'd suffered in his captivity. Kubota wished he'd left someone alive, if only for the pleasure of tracking the animal down and putting a bullet in his head once more. As it was, there was still someone he would exact his revenge upon: Sanada.

He rummaged the medicine chest for some peroxide to clean the deepest wounds.

"Kubo-chan, your hands are shaking," Tokitoh observed as he doused a cotton ball with the disinfectant. "You must be cold, too."

He ignored the commentary, focusing instead on the task, not trusting himself to think of the what-ifs. They were useless, of course, because there was never any doubt in his mind that he would find Tokitoh and save him.

For what purpose, though?

How long would he be able to protect his little stray? And what was he protecting Tokitoh from? Izumo? Wild Adapter? Lost memories?

He slid the cotton along an angry gash and Tokitoh hissed out a breath. Kubota dropped his gaze to Tokitoh's hands.

"I'll get you a glove."

When he leveled his gaze, Tokitoh was staring at him intensely. Kubota tilted his head to one side, trying to decipher the meaning. Seconds passed in silence, Kubota unable to tear his eyes away. A sharp rap on the door broke the spell.

"Tea's ready when you are. I'm going back to bed."

Kubota turned his head away from Tokitoh, toward the door.

"OK ... Thanks," he added after a pause. He listened to Kasai's footsteps grow distant.

And then he was being forced against that same door. Tokitoh was _warm_. And he was pressing his warm body against Kubota, so close, it felt as if he wanted to share the same skin.

"You're cold," he said. "You need to be out of your clothes." He brought his hands up to the open throat of Kubota's shirt and tugged at the loose collars. Kubota began to unbutton the buttons, warily watching him. Tokitoh slid his hands under Kubota's wet coat and pulled the tails out of his waistband. His hands skimmed over Kubota's skin as they came around to push the garments off his shoulders. The long nails of his transformed hand dragged carelessly over a nipple. He exhaled a ragged breath. His shirt and coat slipped down his arms and to the floor. He felt gooseflesh rise and a shiver wracked his body. A strange electricity fizzed in the air between them. Kubota's senses sharpened, honed in on Tokitoh's movements, the rise and fall of his chest, the way his eyes raked over his exposed flesh.

He stepped around Tokitoh and turned on the shower faucets. As the water warmed, he twisted the shower head until the steady stream turned into a soft mist, slackening the pressure so as not to cause Tokitoh any more discomfort. He felt Tokitoh's eyes burning into his back.

"We could both stand warming up," he said evenly, though his heartbeat had quickened.

They peeled off the rest of their clothes in silence, then Kubota perched his eyeglasses on the edge of the vanity. He stepped under the flow and the water immediately began to ease out the cold that had settled into his bones. As long as he remained focused on the task of showering, he could push aside the way this new energy was causing his body to react.

It was most peculiar.

Tokitoh joined him, closing the glass door behind him. And now the air in the stall buzzed with his aura. Kubota picked up the soap.

"Turn around." Gently, he smoothed a lather over Tokitoh's back, reaching around to slide the soap over the planes of his chest. Flames licked at the corners of Kubota's mind when his hands happened upon a particularly tender spot that caused Tokitoh to gasp. He dipped the bar lower over the curve of Tokitoh's ass. Tokitoh shied away from Kubota, pressing himself against the tiled wall. It was then the thought struck him-a white-hot lance through the ice of his heart-if they'd violated him...

What then?

He'd already decimated the youth group. Should he extend the destruction to their families? Their loved ones? It was a tantalizing thought, but Kubota understood that it couldn't change the past, couldn't erase what might have happened to Tokitoh. In the end it would be wasted energy, better served in being more vigilant in watching over him.

But he would destroy Sanada. Of that there was no doubt.

He laid his hand on Tokitoh's shoulder. Tokitoh spun around, a wild look in his eyes. His beast's hand shot out, pinning Kubota against cool tile.

"Kubo-chan."

The endearment was choked. Tokitoh stepped in close and then wavered momentarily before he closed the distance completely.

"Want you," he growled, the words seemed torn from his throat, and then Kubota understood why he'd turned away in the first place; the jut of his erection brushed his thigh. Tokitoh's face loomed closer, a smudge of flushed skin and black hair before Kubota felt his mouth press against his. Tokitoh's lips were warm and they hungrily attacked his mouth; at the same time Tokitoh trapped Kubota's head with his hands.

His mind reeled and he stood rigid for a few seconds, fruitlessly processing what was happening. Although Tokitoh often slept curled next to him, sometimes possessively wrapped _around_ him, he'd never given any indication. Not that this was unwelcome. His body was already responding, his dick hardening, his pulse racing in his veins. The soap slipped from his hand and skittered across the tiled floor.

He wanted Tokitoh too.

Needed him.

He _needed_ Tokitoh, and that thought startled him, because Kubota had never depended on anyone. When he was younger, he would have just as soon lived on the streets as in Kasai's modest apartment, and after Komiya had been murdered, it had been infinitely easy for him to walk away from Izumo. No one had ever held any sway over him the way Tokitoh did-a mere glance from him, a stuck-out lower lip, a furrowed brow and it was over; Kubota was defenseless against that.

How could he refuse him now?

Kubota wrapped his arms around Tokitoh's waist and pulled him closer. He opened his mouth, inviting Tokitoh to take what he wanted, to take everything Kubota offered. And he did. He kissed Kubota fiercely, avidly exploring the interiors of his mouth, his tongue provoking an equally ardent response from Kubota. Tokitoh's fingers, buried in Kubota's wet hair, flexed against his scalp; he noticed the difference--the long nails of Tokitoh's right hand scraped harder against his skull, sparks of pain flashed behind his eyes. Kubota kept his hands fixed on Tokitoh's hips and their pelvises ground together.

He was losing himself, but he wasn't frightened by it. Not when every touch, every movement set his nerve-endings on fire. Not when he'd come so close to losing Tokitoh. And, as he'd told Kou-san, he wasn't ready to let him go. Not now, not ever. That it was inevitable he might have to was something Kubota could push out of his mind, if only for the moment.

Tokitoh's movement took on a frantic bent; he frotted against Kubota with abandon, rubbing their dicks together wantonly, while his tongue invaded Kubota's mouth. An alien heat bloomed over his abdomen and Tokitoh broke the kiss to lean his forehead on the hard jut of his collarbone. Kubota's lips tingled from the workout they'd been given; he skimmed his tongue over them, savoring the residual taste Tokitoh had left behind. Tokitoh's hands released his head and one slipped between their bodies, and then Kubota felt sharp nails stroke his hard length. He groaned. The sensation was a pleasure-pain, Tokitoh was jerking him off with his coarse hand, and all Kubota could do was hold fast to him, silently begging him for more, wondering what it would feel like to have that hand slowly gutting him, tearing his flesh, opening up his body.

He could think of no better way to die.

He bit down into the flesh of Tokitoh's shoulder, his tongue swiping over the indents his teeth made. He tasted blood, and Tokitoh groaned, the needful sound echoing off the shower walls, joined by a low keen that escaped Kubota's lips. His body was electrified and tense; he stood frozen, suspended in time-unable to move or breathe--the rhythm of Tokitoh's strokes repeated in the pattern of water droplets falling to the tiled floor. Kubota dropped one hand and closed it over Tokitoh's.

"You don't need to do this," he rasped.

"I _want_ to, Kubo-chan."

Kubota wished then that he could see more clearly, could have an image to match with the sensation of Tokitoh's rough hand closed over his sex. He closed his eyes and imagined the expression on Tokitoh's face, one of rapt concentration, not unlike ones he'd wear when playing one of his video games.

He was slowly coming apart.

Kubota leaned against the tiles and tilted his chin up. The air was moist from the steam of the shower; both their bodies were slick from it. He felt his balls tighten and then he was coming, his body emptying onto their joined hands.

Tokitoh grabbed him in a rough embrace and held him there, under the showerhead, and nuzzled against his neck. Kubota was grateful for the support; his knees felt weak.

"I think we're done in here," he remarked after they'd stood together for a while. Tokitoh nodded his head against Kubota's shoulder.

He turned the faucet off when he could trust himself to move again, and then reached for a towel. His hands were trembling as he swabbed the water off of Tokitoh. The silence that descended upon them was comfortable and Kubota was grateful for it. After they were both dry, Kubota picked up their wet clothes. He led Tokitoh down the hall, to his old bedroom, and left him there to put the clothes in the laundry.

When he was finished, Kubota returned to his room. Tokitoh was already asleep, sprawled on the narrow bed. Kubota glanced around the spare chamber and flinched against the memories that threatened. Tonight was not a night to worry about the past or to consider the possibilities of the future. Kubota slid into the bed next to Tokitoh and Tokitoh shifted in his sleep, accommodating the intrusion and conforming to its shape.

Tonight, Kubota was content to just be.


End file.
